


Must Have Been the Wind

by Misses_Norris



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arya Stark is Good Bro, Daenerys is a Good Bro, Domestic Violence, F/M, Inspired by Music, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Not Beta Read, Police Officer Jon Snow, Protective Jon Snow, Sansa is a Survior, jonsa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 08:24:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19902721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misses_Norris/pseuds/Misses_Norris
Summary: *Inspired by the song of the same name by Alec Benjamin* DS Snow just wanted to catch a break, but between the grisly murders, growing White Walker deaths, and now the once forgotten Tully blue eyes haunting his dreams, that definitely wasn't going to happen.





	1. One

**_I heard glass shatter on the wall in the apartment above mine. At first I thought that I was dreaming._ **

It had a been an incredibly long day for Detective Inspector Snow, and he wanted nothing more than to come home to his little flat and spend the evening with a good ale and a better book. He shrugged off his coat, locked away his service and back-up weapons before taking his white malamute, Ghost, for a brisk walk, and then proceeded to do just that. He had just opened the bottle and settled in with Frodo and the other hobbits when the noise began.

The muffled tones coming through his ceiling weren’t easy to make out, nor were they easy to ignore. _Here we go again_ , Jon thought letting out a sigh. The tenants hadn’t lived up there long, but the way they seemed to be in a row every night made it feel like an eternity. His block of flats was fairly large so it wasn’t easy to tell who had moved in up above him. Ghost grunted at the other end of his sofa, seeming to share Jon’s sentiments. Typically after a fierce shouting match accompanied with an enthusiastic door slam, the two stopped and Jon got to enjoy the rest his night but tonight was to be different.

A sharp, distinctly female cry reverberated following the sound of several things being smashed. Afterword, Jon found himself holding his breath, book forgotten, at the sudden silence coming from upstairs. Ghost even sat up alert, a soft growl rumbling in his chest. Eventually the telltale door slam followed and the silence gave way to painfully quiet cries.

**_But then I heard the voice of a girl and it sounded like she’d been crying. Now I’m too worried to be sleeping._ **

_This wasn’t his business. He was off-duty and didn’t belong in someone else’s problems, let alone domestic ones._ He tried to explain this to Ghost, but the huff the canine gave proved Jon was full of shit. He removed his glasses with a sigh, and placed them on the end table with his book. Jon ran a hand through his dark curls before standing, and using the elastic on his wrist to tie them back in a low ponytail. His trainers were on his feet once more and he went to leave, but not before going back for his personal gun and holster. This was a potential domestic abuse situation after all.

He looked at Ghost, who didn’t even to get up to follow his master. “Hold down the fort, boy?”

Jon is convinced the albino’s red eyes rolled while looking back at him.

**_So I took the elevator to the second floor, walked down the hall and then I knocked upon her door._ **

The fact that Jon had served in a war and now serves the city as a law enforcement officer should have been enough for him to not feel nervous walking toward the lift. For some reason this was just sitting odd with him, and he couldn’t put a finger on it why. This was hardly the first time he had gone to ask about a domestic abuse call, but maybe it was because he was out of uniform and just Jon.

Jon lived in 32A, so it didn’t take much of a brain to figure out he need to go to 42A to find his target. He could hear someone moving around inside, the sound of broken glass scrapping, and the soft female cries he heard down below. _Definitely the right place._ His knock began with the quick rapport that police are known for but he grimaced, dialing it back in an attempt to not startle the person within any further.

The movement paused for moment, and Jon almost knocked again when a female watery voice called out, “Who is it?”

“Uh, Hi. I live below you, I just wanted to check in. I heard some loud noises down below.”

**_She opened up and I asked about the things I've been hearing._ **

The movement resumed and the sound of a deadbolt turning came before the door opening slightly, security chain still in place. The sliver of creamy skin was visibly on a female face andglimpse of a large tan sweater flashed in front of him.

A throat cleared before the woman continued, “I’m sorry, I’m not entirely sure what you’re talking about. My boyfriend and I haven’t lived here long, and we’ve been unpacking some today.”

**_She said, "I think your ears are playing tricks on you,” Sweater zipped up to her chin._ **

“I haven’t been home too long today, but I definitely heard shouting. I just wanted to check you were ok.”

Blue eyes flashed through the crack, before the door was shut in his face. _Well, I tried,_ Jon thought with a sigh, turning to leave. The door was quickly reopened, larger this time. The woman turned out to be a young woman, looking to be close to his age, if not a little younger, in her twenties. She had fiery red hair that was strung up in a bun atop her head, and his lithe frame was dwarfed completely by an oversized sweater that had sleeves which hung past her hands, and so long it covering a chunk of her black tight covered thighs. Her pale skin was blotchy on her face and slightly swollen around her eyes, all signs pointing to crying. What stood out the most however was the slightly purplish marks snaking up her throat, leaving angry skin in their wake.

_Fresh bruises_ , he mentally cataloged.

“Are you Jon? Jon Snow?” She questioned quickly, catching him completely off guard.

His brow furrowed as he studied the woman’s almost familiar features. “Do I know you?”

She looked down at her hands, picking softly her nails. He caught a glimpse of the worried skin there. Clearly a nervous habit. “It’s been a long time since I lived near White Harbor, you probably don’t remember me, I’m -“

“Sansa Stark,” He finished with whisper. Her blue eyes snapped up to his grey and she offered a soft smile.

_Childhood memories of running through the Winterfell Estate ran through Jon’s mind. His mother was a maid on the grounds and he often got to play and run amuck with the Lord’s children. He spent move than one summer at their sides, Robb leading the fray with little Arya and Bran and Rickon not far behind. He enjoyed his time with them, but still often felt like an outsider with the Lord’s ward, Theon Greyjoy. There was however one Stark he often prayed noticed him a little more than the rest._

_Back then Sansa’s fiery red hair was long, stoping just at her waist. She only wore dresses, spoke in soft tones, and her big blue eyes were ever watchful as she embodied the perfect image of a highborn lady. Something that Theon often reminded him with a shove that a bastard like Jon would never be good enough to have._

_Sansa didn’t play with them often, but when she did it was to re-enact fairytales of centuries past. Robb always served as the king missing his ‘daughter’ and Theon the villain who had stolen her away. Jon however was lucky enough to be her shining knight, playing the part of Aegon to come save the beautiful damsel. Arya hated that game because she shouted it was a stupid game for stupid girls. For Jon however, it was always his favourite._

Even now Jon wanted to know if Sansa remembered the old games.

“How are you? Have you lived here long?” Jon sputtered, shocked she was in front of him, forgetting completely what brought him up here.

“We just moved in actually. Only been a few weeks, but I guess you could hear us downstairs and all.”

_Downstairs._ He held back a flinch as he remembered exactly what brought him up here in the first place. Dear Gods, it was Sansa of all people dealing with this? The thought brought a grimace to his face, and he apparently wasn’t quick enough to hide it if the dimming in Sansa’s eyes was enough to go by.

“Yeah about that…” He trailed off, leaving the discussion open for her to continue.

**_Thanks for caring, sir, that's nice of you, but I have to go back in._ **

She however, didn’t. Jon watched as the young woman pushed up her sleeve to check a watch on her wrist. _Dear Gods, there were even more bruises on her arm,_ Jon thought. As if sensing his gaze, she quickly pushed the sleeve back down before frantically peering around Jon in the hall. He didn’t think she was trying to be obvious, but he could tell she was watching out for someone, nervous.

_She was probably afraid he was going to come back. I should get out of her hair until I know more about what’s happening._ Jon didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to leave the sweet girl of youth in this hell, but they were adults now and he couldn’t make her do anything. Honestly at this point, they were practically strangers. The last thing he wanted to do was cause more trouble for her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, taking out his card that had his office phone and personal cell on it.

“Here take this, it’s got my number on it. I’d love to catch up sometime.”

**_Wish I could tell you about the noise. But I didn't hear a thing_ **

Her cold fingers brushed his and she took the small white card from his hand. She nodded looking down at it before back up at him. He watched as her fingers brushed up over the words **Northern Territory Police Department. “** You’re a copper now?”

“DI actually for the North’s Serious and Serial Crime Unit.” Jon quickly smiled, attempting to ease the distress this information was clearly causing the woman.

“A detective? Is that so, guv’ner?” She lightly teased, the fake lowborn accent terrible.

He offered a slight laugh at that but offered up a more somber expression. “Seriously, I’d love to catch up. My schedule is a little sporadic, but if you let me know when you’re free we could work something out.”

She didn’t say anything in response to that, but honestly he didn’t expect her to. She did however muster up a tiny smile and nod. “Good night, Jon.”

“Good night Sansa.”

He heard the door shut as he started back toward the lift, a thousand thoughts racing through his head. He thought of Rob, who he hadn’t seen in years, and little, fiercely wild and protective Arya. _Did they know who Sansa was seeing? Did they know about this stranger hurting her?_ He thought of the little address book he had buried deep in his cupboard and thought maybe he could produce a phone number for one of them. Maybe he should wait and see if Sansa even wants his help. First he needed to find out who she was living with, and maybe see if he could pin something on the wanker and lock his arse up. The cop in Jon was running riot at the thought of the marks on her skin and he wanted that prick to be held responsible. Tonight however would need to be a start. She kept his card. She didn’t slam the door in his face. Now all Jon can do is plan she uses it.

DI Jon Snow once again came home to his little flat now into the wee hours of the morning, which was already proving to be an incredibly long day. He kicked off his trainers, poured out his now warm ale, and then went to his bedroom and removed his trousers and shirt. As per usual, he ignored the reflection of his scars about his torso in the mirror while brushing his teeth in the ensuite bathroom. Once finished, he flicked off the bathroom light and moved to collapse onto his kingsize bed and forget all about tonight for at least the next six hours.

That was until he noticed the giant white lump stretched out fast asleep and snoring in the middle of it. Eying Ghost, he sighed before attempting in vain to move the beast over. At least someone was having a good night.

**_She said, "It must have been the wind, must have been the wind, must have been the wind, it must have been the wind”._ **


	2. Two

“Careful headin’ in there, Guv. That smell is wretched.”

D.I. Snow nodded at the uniformed officer and ducked under the police tape as he made his way further down the alleyway. Cold winter air whipped and blew around him, and he moved to pull the collar of his black woolen peacoat fuller up his neck. The advice wasn’t wrong because as the closer Jon approached, the worse the odor became. Different uniforms were moving about the crime scene collecting evidence and taking photos. He looked around the alley, taking note of the location, not in a rush to view the body. A dead body wasn’t going anywhere, but the people watching and moving about the crime scene might change something. It was dark despite being midmorning due to the overcast the nearby commercial buildings caused. A large commercial dumpster belonging to the warehouse next door blocked the view of the body from the street. The alley kept going past the body, but deadened at a large metal gate with the words **NO TRESPASSING** posted across the front. This area didn’t get a lot of foot traffic, and judging by the state of the full bin, garbage detail hadn’t been by yet this week. Who called this in? 

“Well, what we got?”

The medical examiner that was crouched over the body looked up at the sound of Jon’s voice. “Hey Jon. Looks we’ve got another one. This one however, is pretty sliced up.”

Jon sighed at M.E. Sam Tarly’s words and bent down next to him to get a better view. The body was lying stomach side down, head cocked to the side. It was man in his twenties, or at least what is left of a man in his twenties. He was pale, white, and his short hair a deep dark brown. Dirt and general filth covered what was left of clothing and discolored face. His jacket and shirt underneath were split up the back from the collar to his trousers, splayed open to the side to show his exposed back.

Unlike the other victims that have shown up dead the past few months, this one was missing an incredibly large volume of skin in the shape of a large ‘X’. It was not a clean incision, but instead jagged around the edges indicating this was not done by a medical or any other type of professional. Honestly this almost looked-

“Flayed.” Sam supplied, almost as if he was reading Jon’s mind. A blue gloved hand reached in front of Jon to gesture to the skin on the edge of the lacerations. “See this coloring here? This much vascularization shows that this gentleman was very much alive when the flaying occurred.”

“This didn’t kill him.” Jon stated, did not ask. The damage was severe, and any hope the bloke passed out.

“No, not at all I’m afraid.” Sam agreed, “His pupils are blown and the coloring around his fingers and sores around his mouth indicate drug something more likely to be related. See this purplish bruising around the eyes?Pair that with his overall blue tint and it would make one assume -“

“White Walker.” Jon affirmed. So this was another life lost to the synthetic drug that was sweeping through Westeros, taking its poor and destitute with it. The public had taken to calling its victims ‘Wights’, as it leaves the user with an appearance fit for the tale from the days of old, with their striking resemblance to the description of the very thing the drug takes its name.

“Definitely an overdose at first guess, but whether it's self affliction or forced, I can’t tell for sure just yet. The marks on his forearm suggest he was a habitual user, but these up her near his neck describe a tale more of being injected. I can’t make a final statement until we get his body back to the forensic lab.”

“Estimated time of death?”

“Best guess based on body temp? No more than 48 hours ago.”

Jon nodded and stood looking around. “DS Waters, DS Tollett,” He called to the two neighboring sergeants, “I want a canvas of this area. It doesn’t look like much but someone saw something, they always do. I also want the footage pulled from nearby alleys. There is only one way in and one way out of this and someone must have caught it.”

“Got it, Boss.” The two officers in question nodded at Jon and moved to do as told. Jon noted his partner finally arriving and approaching the scene. “

“Sorry about the delay, wife is out of town and had to get the girls over to childcare.”

Jon nodded at Tormund, knowing the large redhead wouldn’t be late on purpose. As a liaison on loan from the Free Folk Division, he was rather unusual but never negligent of his work. “S’alright. I can catch you up.”

“Bloody cold out here, innit?” Tormund hissed, moving closer to Jon. “Why can’t anyone ever fucking die in reasonable temperatures? Gonna freeze by damned balls off.”

“Good thing your wife already left them blue.”Jon grinned.

“Jon, you’re gonna want to see this…” Sam trailed, and both men turned to look at the M.E.. Sam worked the victim’s hand open and a folded up piece of paper could be seen in his palm. Jon slipped a pair of blue nylon gloves onto his hands and carefully took the paper from the victim’s palm, noting the red smears on the outside. Carefully he unfolded it and held it out for the 3 men to read.

_**Our Blades Are Sharp** _  
****

Jon swallowed dryly, recognizing the short inscription immediately, and upon seeing the flayed skin of their victim, he was afraid this is what he’d find. “What is it, Crow?”

The moniker was left over from when Tormund and Jon met, Crow almost being a slur given to the outsider, Northern Territory Police by the Free-Folk. The press called them ‘Men of Night’s Watch’ due to their black uniforms, much different than the ivory and gold worn by the City Watch Police Force in King’s Landing. Tormund now used it almost with affection, but at the same time forever mocking Jon.

“Only one group of people that use those words. Same group of people who have a reputation for liking to flay men alive.” Jon summarized, eyebrow raised.

“Boltons,” Tormund grimaced, finally catching on. The horrors of the Bolton gang had traveled far enough up North to reach Tormund’s people. “Then who is this unlucky bastard?” Tormund was too busy eying the deceased to notice the burrow of Jon’s brow at the use of _that_ word. “A Baelish Boy, perhaps?”

“No, no way. Too unrefined for that. Clothes are too common.” While in a correct age bracket, the victim was definitely in the wrong socioeconomic class to apart of the Master of Coin Company House. By day they were paid, legal, escorts, but it was common knowledge the establishment acted as a hub for prostitution by night. Unfortunately, prostitutes were common in White Walker related deaths, but that did not seem to be the case here.

“You’re probably right, but it wouldn’t hurt to pay ole’ Little Pecker a visit anyway.”

“Littlefinger,” Jon corrected.

“That’s what I said.”

***

Jon sat at his desk, a program running the finger prints of the dead victim on his computer through known criminal databases. Going to see Baelish was just as much as a bust as Jon expected it to be, and also as Jon thought seeing the man always left him with a bad taste in his mouth.

_“Why officers, what can I do for you on this chilly day?” Littlefinger commented, greeting the pair at the door._

_Jon didn’t answer, electing to let Tormund do the talking as usual. He surveyed the lavish room while his partner spoke, and briefly noticed the large. round velvet topped daybed, with the giggling women watching the pair._

_“Need a little company, copper?”_

_He noticed the woman in question was beautiful at first glance, but upon further inspection he noted the dazed look in her eye and the obvious signs of a plastic surgeon. He didn’t acknowledge her with a response, instead noting the line of portraits along the wall of the great room. The current workers. The face of his victim wasn’t among them._

_“How unfortunate, he could have had a career here if not for that very dirty White Walker problem.” Petyr smirked, handing the photo back to Tormund. Jon couldn’t hold back a snort. The response caused Petyr to smile, “No really, DI Snow. My boys and girls here are clean, in more ways than one. But unfortunately boys, we must really see you off. It seems the sight of swine has a negative effect on business.”_

Petyr Baelish was a smarmy man, but innocent in this particular crime it seems. Tormund sat at his desk across from Jon, looking through past cases for another connection. They couldn’t pick up a Bolton gang member on the words of a paper alone, they’d need more proof than that.

A ping of Jon’s cellphone let him know he received a message

**Message Recieved: (432)324-2144**

**@ 3:37 pm**

**Meet me at the Silver Stag, say 4:30?**

**Message Received: (432)324-2144**

**@3:38 pm**

**This is Sansa, btw**

**Message Received: (432)324-2144**

**@3:39**

**If you’re busy, I understand. We can do it some other time. I’m just on lunch at that time.**

Jon smiled slightly at her words, and saved the number under her name. He texted back that sounded great and that he was happy to hear from her. Silver Stag was across town, and he’d need to leave now with traffic. He stood and through his coat over his shoulders.

“Hey, I’ve got to go meet a friend for a bit, can you cover me?”

Tormund nodded, knowing Jon never asked for something like this. “No problem, everything fine?”

“Yeah. She’s just having a few things to work through.” He answered, not quite sure what to tell Tormund.

“It’s a _she,_ yeah?” Tormund leered, “Looking to finally get a little something, Snow?”

“It’s not like that,” He objected with an eye roll. Sansa had more than enough going on without Jon adding to her trouble.

“What’s wrong little crow, afraid she’ll have a laugh at your tiny pecker?”

“Sometimes, like in this moment, you’re a right git Giantsbane.”

***

Believe it or not, the Silver Stag was a tea and coffee shop Jon knew rather well. One of his fellow officers and work friend, Gendry, had an uncle Renly who actually owned the place. Despite growing up a bastard like Jon, his uncle reached out to Gendry once he was an adult and Gendry eventually brought Jon and the others around. Renly honestly was not much older than Jon or Gendry themselves, and was a pretty interesting guy from few times he and Jon interacted. Renly wasn’t there when he walked in, but his partner Loras was behind the bar.

“Hey Snow, what are you doing this side of town?” Loras asked with a smile. The tall blonde was a friendly guy, and Jon liked him beside not knowing him well.

“Ah I’m meeting an old friend actually.”

“Alright then,” Loras smiled, his pearly whites worthy of a magazine ad, “Take a seat wherever you like, I’ll come take your order when you’re ready.”

Jon mumbled his thanks and sat in the back booth, his back to the wall and eyes on the establishment, a nervous habit he picked up years ago. He checked his watch, only a few minutes early, and absentmindedly rubbed his chest softly while he waited. Cold days like today make his chest ache where the past trauma occurred, but over the years he’d gotten used to it and learned to live with the pain. Like most things he disliked, he eventually adjusted.

The door bell chimed, and Jon looked up, almost excited, but a pair of teenagers stumbled through the door clumsily, holding on to one another and giddy on one another’s presence. Ten minutes turned into twenty and no message from Sansa occurred. Loras had already come with a cup of black deep roast coffee that Jon preferred and even once refilled it. Sighing, he took out his wallet and prepared to leave cash on the table but before he could the door dinged once more.

_Sansa_. Her red hair was down this time, and Jon could see it was just as long as he remembered, going past her waist despite that not being the current fashion. She wore a simple but tasteful high-necked blue dress over black tights and a long black woolen coat. Snow flakes were melting in her hair, and despite the makeup on her face he could tell her cheeks were flushed and her lips slightly purple from the cold. This composed woman was deep contrast from the disheveled person he saw not 24 hours ago.

“Sansa!” Loras of all people called, “How are you love? Usual muffin and tea take away?”

She smiled at the vagarious man around the counter, “Actually, no. I’m meeting a friend.”

Jon cleared his throat but before he could speak, Loras chimed in with a Cheshire grin, “A certain Jon Snow, maybe? However do you two know each other.”

“Old childhood friends,” She supplied looking from Loras to Jon, “I’m so sorry I’m late, I got distracted in the stacks.”

“Stacks?” Jon asked, waiting on her to remove her coat and sit before he did the same.

“I’m a librarian at the Citadel across the street.”

“Really? I thought only old white men worked there.” He asked before his brain could catch up. Thankfully, she took the comment in stride and laughed lightly.

“A few centuries ago maybe, now their history department takes on anyone with a degree.”

The two chatted a bit, Jon nervously skirting around any serious topics. She spoke of her job and even bit of her time at college. In return he told her a little about his current life, with Ghost and reading books when he can. They didn’t talk about painful things, like family or shouting or what happened since they left Winterfell all those years ago. Loras came over with an order that Sansa didn’t even need to tell him and moved to leave the pair alone.

“Come here often?” He gestured to the muffin and tea, ignoring the doublespeak of that usual pick up line.

“Only multiple times a week. It’s convenient with it being across the street. It’s also helpful Loras’s sister is a good friend of mine.”

“Oh really? I’ve never met any of his siblings. A friend of mine is Renly’s nephew.”

“The famed nephew? I’ve heard much about him but we’ve yet to meet. It’s crazy we’ve been operating in circles just outside each other without even knowing.”

“Speaking of that, it’s wild we live in the same building.” Jon agreed. The natural flow of conversation stopped at that and Sansa cast her eyes to the table. _Way to think, Snow._

Sansa’s hands found each other on the table and began to pick at the skin around her nails. “About that, I’m really sorry about last night. We get a little carried away sometimes, I’m sorry we bothered you.”

“Hey, it’s ok. I promise. I just wanted to check you were ok.” Jon said slowly, quietly, in an attempt to not embarrass her further.

She looked up at him and just stared quietly for a few moments. “It’s really _really_ good to see you, Jon.”

The shrill ring of his cell made her jump and broke Jon from the trance of her Tully Blue eyes. Tormund’s name flashed and Jon answered knowing the redhead wouldn’t have interrupted without needing to.

“Snow,” He spoke not taking his eyes of Sansa. She smiled weakly at him and moved to take her wallet of her purse, as if sensing their time together was ending. Without thinking, he reached out and his warm calloused hand stopped her dainty smooth one. He let go quickly, not wanting to startle her and chose to ignore the moment all together and mouthed ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got it.’

She looked to protest but thankfully didn’t as Tormund began to speak in his ear. “ _Got a match on the prints and an ID. Jojen Blackmyre.”_

“Blackmyre? Why do I know that name?” Jon asked, pulling a few bills from his wallet and leaving them on the table.

“ _Blackmyres are crannogmen. We’ve got a death notice to make in a place that notably doesn’t use phones. We’re headed to the marshes in the neck, Greywatch.”_

Jon quickly bid his partner goodbye, with the promise of heading back to the station. Sansa was already standing and putting her coat back on. “I’m sorry, duty calls.” _Could you say anything lamer, Snow? Hell, probably._

“That’s fine. My lunch hour is almost up anyway.”

He nodded and wanted to say something to the young woman about wanting to see her again but he didn’t want to overwhelm her. He didn’t want Sansa to slip so easily out of his life again. Thankfully she intercepted before he could make an arse of himself.

“I really enjoyed this. Maybe sometime next week we could do it again?”

“I’d love to.” He chimed in, hoping not too eagerly. “Anytime you need to talk or anything, we can meet up, or text, or you know where I live. Just come by. Really, anytime.”

She nodded, understanding the offer for what it was and didn’t seem upset by the implication that she’d need to flee her home. “I do need to come by and meet Ghost.”

“He’d love that.” _I’d love that._

Sansa didn’t stop surprising him there. The pair and bid goodbye to Loras and moved out onto the side walk. She said goodbye to Jon and before he could respond, leaned over and gently kissed his cheek. Before his brain restarted for a response, he was too busy watching the redhead already cross and be near the Citadel steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, subscribing, commenting, and the kudos! It gives me inspiration to keep going. I hope you continue to enjoy it, because so far its been a blast to write.


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